


Tumblr Prompts: NCIS

by wibblywobblymess



Category: NCIS
Genre: Drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:39:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 16,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblymess/pseuds/wibblywobblymess
Summary: NCIS drabbles frommy Tumblr.Each chapter is a different drabble.This work will be listed as COMPLETE, but I will add a new chapter when I write a new drabble.





	1. DiNozzo x Reader - "Things said at 4am" & "Things said as we danced in our socks."

**Requested by anonymous.**

               It was so late when you had called Tony that the first words out of your mouth were “I’m sorry.” He huffed out a sleepy laugh, shifting, before you heard the groan, knowing it was because he saw the clock.

“You do know what time it is, right, Y/N?” he asked, rubbing a hand down his face, and you laughed, soft, as you curled up a bit more on your bed.

“Yeah…I’m sorry, Tony, I know it’s almost 4, I just…” The line was silent as you trailed, something that made him frown, and lift his head from the pillow a bit to listen better.

“Y/N?” You sighed, the sound prompting him to toss his blanket and swing his feet over to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I just…I had a nightmare…and I don’t want to go back to sleep, and I just…needed…to know you were okay.” The whimper that laced your voice had him on his feet, now, his heart clenching for even thinking about giving you shit for waking him up at 4 AM.

“Y/N…you never need to apologize to me. First of all, we  _both_  know it’s a sign of weakness,” he commented, as you huffed the softest laugh, “and second, when you need me, you need me. And when you need me, I’m there, I don’t care if it’s 4, or 2, or if I’ve been in bed for five minutes or five hours. I don’t care if I’m across town or across the planet. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” You scrunched up your face, fighting the urge to cry, because that was really sweet, and really helped you feel better about waking him up.

“Tony…”

“Give me ten, then unlock the door. See you in a few.” With that, he hung up, startling you, because that’s not what you were going to ask, you would never ask him to get up so early and  _go_ , you just wanted to hear his voice, knowing his voice had always helped when you couldn’t do anything else.

               Just like promised, he was walking in your door, just after you unlocked it, and he caught you in tight hug, arms curled around your waist as you pushed up onto your toes to hug him back just as tightly.

“Tired?” he asked. You had to think about it, honestly, before shaking your head. “Good.” He pulled back, pulling out his phone, and, after tapping at the screen a couple of times, he put it down, smiling at your laugh when music started playing.

“Tony, what are you doing?” you asked, as he turned to kick off his shoes.

“You aren’t tired. I’m not tired enough. It’s too early for going anywhere, and there isn’t anything on TV for another…five hours. So. C’mere, let’s dance,” he said, making you laugh again as you leaned into him, arms around his shoulders as you two swayed around in the living room in socks to the music on his phone. He kept one hand flat against your back, happy as the tension started to slip out of you, until he shifted enough to kiss the side of your head.

“Thank you,” you told him, wiggling in the embrace. “I know you aren’t the biggest fan of getting up early…like…ever.” Tony snickered, shaking his head.

“Not true. I was first in line for that Alfred Hitchcock festival, you know how early I had to get up for that?” You laughed, rolling your eyes.

“That was different. You love Hitchcock.” Tony frowned, and even though you two kept swaying, he pulled back, one hand curling against your jaw.

“Well, yeah, I love watching Hitchcock. But…Y/N…c’mon,” he said softly, brow pulling down as he realized no, you probably didn’t realize.

“…what?”

“…I love Hitchcock, but as a hobby, a past-time. I  _love_  you…as…everything.” Your breath caught, then, and Tony smiled, slow, prompting a grin to pull your lips that lit up your face as he wrapped both arms back around you, and pull you in for a tight embrace.

“…I love you too, Tony.”


	2. DiNozzo x Reader - "Things you said in a hotel room."

**Requested by anonymous.**

 

               Undercover work was fun, different, but incredibly stressful, because one slip could foul the entire thing.

                Undercover work with Tony was a little more stressful than normal, because as good as he was, and as focused as he was, he was still Tony, and still fun when you two were alone in the hotel.

                After dinner, where you two had spent the majority of the time watching your targets and pretending you were actually celebrating an anniversary, the two of you had bumped into the targets at the bar, shared a drink with them, shared conversation, until they excused themselves for the night, and you and Tony did the same.

                Luckily for you (ha, lucky), the room you shared with Tony was on the same floor, but opposite ends of the curved building. It gave you two a perfect vantage point to not only listen in via the bugs dropped at the bar, but also to watch, courtesy of the cameras set up in the perfect spot to not be seen at the windows facing the targets’ room.

                Tony was seated at the chair near the windows, computer in his lap, feet kicked up on the bed, as he monitored the feed from the cameras, so you could shower, change, and, once you were done, you paused in the doorway, smiling a little. He was so relaxed, sipping his water, bopping his head a little to what you could only assume was a song in his head, even as he watched the cameras, waiting for the targets to come into their room. His tie was undone, hanging around his shoulders, shoes kicked off at the end of the bed, and you blushed, shaking your head.

 “You did good tonight, DiNozzo.” He raised his head, surprised, and grinned with a shrug.

“Helps having a good partner. You were on point,” he complimented you, making you chuckle, as you crouched to dig through the mini fridge. “Looked gorgeous, too.” That made you blush a bit darker, shaking your head again.

“You, uh…you know what, I think we really played a couple well. You were  _perfect_  with the whole thing, seriously, we could have been a real couple,” you pointed out, snagging a mini bottle of Scotch and nudging the door shut. “Your turn,” you added, pointing to the bathroom. Tony hummed, watching you for a moment before nodding, handing you the computer as he stood. You stilled, though, as his hand touched your hip, and his warm breath brushed your temple.

“We could be…and you’re the one who’s perfect.” But just like that, he was heading into the bathroom, and you were alone in the room, staring after him in surprise, heart thumping.

               You two had a job to do, still, but the door that you thought didn’t exist with Tony was open, now, and he had left it open for when you were ready, and you couldn’t stop grinning about that, even as you sat down to monitor the cameras on your targets.


	3. Torres x Reader - "I really wish you'd told me your mother was in town."

**Requested by anonymous.**

 

The weekend. You loved the weekend. You  _always_  loved the weekend, but you loved it more after Nick had figured out he had to leave early in order to avoid getting pulled into the weekend case load, like McGee and Bishop had. It meant Nick got to spend more time at your apartment, and really, he loved that too. Spending time with you,  _and_ spending time at an apartment that  _wasn’t_  the one he had, the one he could afford but really didn’t like all that much? Bonus.

He had you pinned to the couch, his body pressed between your thighs, lips burning across your throat, when the knock sounded at the door, and you huffed, eyes shooting open.

“Hmmm, ignore it,” he murmured, nipping at your throat, and despite the whine that fell off your lips, you shook your head, scratching your fingers into his hair.

“Nick, this is my favorite thing, but if you stop me from having pizza, I’m going to castrate you,” you threatened lightly – it was hard to sound really threatening when he was turning your entire existence into jelly. But it made him laugh, breath warm across your skin, before he climbed off you, shaking his head.

“I forgot you get protective of pizza. You’re crazy,” he snickered, as you glared.

“You get protective of your coffee.” Nick paused a couple steps from the couch, and peered over, going for threatening, but it was something you didn’t buy, considering he was in a t-shirt and boxers.

“Hey, my coffee is my  _life blood_ ,” he hissed, making you laugh, before he grabbed his wallet off the counter, and moved to open the door.

               It took you way longer than you were proud of to realize he hadn’t come back in with the food, but by then, as you looked up, Nick was walking in, feigning a grin as he motioned to a familiar woman behind him, prompting you to nearly scramble off the couch.

“Mom!” you exclaimed, startled, looking at Nick in surprise as your mom laughed, and hugged you tightly.

“Honey! I wasn’t sure if you were home, you weren’t answering your phone, so I thought I’d just…pop in!” she laughed more, as you laughed, too, still startled.

“What’s going on?” you asked, pulling back to see her, as she shook her head.

“Oh, just work, and I can’t  _stay_ , tonight, we’ve got a seminar really early, but I wanted to talk to you about dinner? Tomorrow?” your mom asked, as you started leading her back towards the door, nodding.

“Yeah, sure, absolutely. Uh…my phone is charging, but let me know when your stuff is finished for the day, and we’ll get things set up for dinner, okay?” you asked, as she turned away from the door to hug you again.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart!” she said, pulling back, and grinning at Nick, who had followed, and was smiling back. “And bring  _him_ , he’s so charming!” your mom laughed, as Nick chuckled, and shrugged like it was nothing.

“Oh, yeah…sure, mom. No problem. We’ll see you tomorrow,” you told her, as she hugged you, and then grabbed Nick in a hug, before she headed off down the hall. Nick pushed the door closed, blinking at it for a moment, before turning around to see you, brow raised.

“I really wish you’d told me your  _mother_  was in town,” he huffed, as you squawked.

“I wish I’d known!” you hissed.

“I’m in my underwear!” he pointed out, waving a hand over himself, and you bit your lip, scanning his frame, before shrugging, slowly grinning.

“…at least you weren’t naked?” you suggested, and he narrowed his eyes at you, turning completely to face you.

“Y/N. Did you miss the heated makeout session?” he asked, pointing towards the couch. “Or the presence of-“

“Little Nick? No, I did not miss…OH MY GOD,” you exclaimed, realizing what he was telling you, before you clamped your hand over your face. “You just met my mother with a b-“

“Yes. Yes I did. So we’re gonna go back in there and watch that movie and eat the pizza, and you get nothin’ more from me,” he huffed, starting back into the other room, as you squeaked, and bounced after him, nearly tackling him to the couch. He grunted, twisting just enough to lay on his back, as you straddled his waist, your hands cupping his face as you leaned down to kiss him.

“I will absolutely make the mother thing up to you, if you let me,” you murmured, slipping to flick your tongue against his ear. He started to groan, resolve crumbling, when another knock sounded at the door, and he stilled, head thumping back.

“Pizza.”

“Hmmm…forget it, you’re more important.” Nick grabbed your shoulders, making you squeak, as he chuckled in surprise.

“Okay, I’m just gonna take your apology, okay, but I know you well enough that when we’re done, you’re gonna wish you had it. Hold on!” he hollered, as you laughed, and shifted off his waist.

“Fine.  _Fine_ , but get the food and  _get back here_ , Torres,” you smirked, as he groaned, and stole a quick kiss.

“Yes,  _ma’am_.”


	4. DiNozzo x Reader - "If I die, I'm going to haunt you."

****

**Requested by Anonymous.**

 

                The room was full of laughter and happy voices, but you were not doing either, clinging to the rope as you tried to stay near the wall. Your foot slipped, and you screeched, which was a common sound in the room, too, but your sound was met with laughter from a couple feet away.

“You’re in a harness! You’re fine!” Tony called, and you scrunched up your face, swatting in his direction.

“If I die, I’m going to haunt you!” you hollered, and he laughed, again, before you felt his warmth press to your side. “Oh my god! What are you doing!” you screeched, grasping for the wall.

“Hey, just take a deep breath, Y/N. I’ve got you.”

“Tony, don’t pull me, I’m gonna fall,” you begged, panicked, and he curled his hand around your waist carefully, huffing, breath warm on your ear.

“Deep breath.” You did, nodding. “You are in a harness. You are well secured. I’ve got you. You can _do this_. There are mats below us in case you do slip. But, Y/N,” he said, and you could hear him fighting the laugh.

“ _What_?” you snapped.

“We’re only ten feet off the ground.” You opened your eyes, scowling, and turned your head to see him.

“Don’t mock me, DiNozzo, or I’m going for pizza, beer, and movies alone when we’re done.” Tony squeaked, shaking his head.

“I’m not mocking! Just pointing out. C’mon, let’s get down before you…you know…die.”

“Mocking,” you pouted, shoving at him, and squealing as you lost your grip and toppled off the wall.

                A ten foot fall was nothing, but you were still lying on the padding underneath where you were, grunting and blinking up at Tony in surprise as he rappelled down, unhooking from the rope before kneeling beside you.

“You okay?” he asked, and you could see him fighting the urge to laugh.

“I’d hit you, but I bruised my pride way too much to move.” Tony laughed, then, unhooking your rope, and pulled you to your feet, wrapping his arms around your frame.

“You know what’s good for that?” You knew where this was going, but you shook your head. “Pizza. Beer. Hitchcock.”

“…you gonna bring this up again?” you asked. Tony scoffed, shaking his head as he lead you away from the wall, so you could get rid of the harnesses.

“What? Me?” he asked, as you quirked a brow. “…of course I am. But I’ll wait until tomorrow to start.”

“Appreciated,” you replied, shaking your head, and laughing as he pressed a kiss to your temple.


	5. Torres x Reader - "Just go to sleep."

****

**Requested by anonymous.**

 

“I asked you to not do _one thing_ , Nick. _One_. And you did it anyways,” you grumbled, shoving the front door shut, and moving through the apartment towards the bedroom. Nick huffed as he checked the lock, and followed.

“I was not gonna let you get shot, okay? I don’t care if you hate my guts for this. You’re my partner, _and_ my girlfriend. Two very, _very_ good reasons to tackle you when I have to.” Shaking your head, you kicked off your shoes, and tugged off your shirt, tossing the clothes into the hamper before digging into your dresser for something to sleep in. You could feel Nick getting distracted as he looked at you, but you fought not to blush or smile at it. You were frustrated, you wanted to stay that way a little longer.

“I _asked_ you to trust me. Okay? Trust me, and not tackle me, because the last time you tackled me, I cracked my head hard enough on the concrete to black out. You tackle like a freakin’ football player,” you groused, face flinching to fight the urge to smirk as he snickered.

“I’m not a football player, Y/N. I’m a fed. _And your boyfriend **.**_ And, just, you know, for the record,” he started, tossing his shirt into the hamper around you, his hand warm as it slid across your back, “if either of those things aren’t enough of a reason to try to protect you, _your father is a very terrifying man_.”

“He is not.”

“Y/N, he is a mortician, and he threatened that no one would find me if you got hurt. Most people I’d ignore. Not a guy with his own _crematorium_.” That was good enough for you to snort at, and roll your eyes, and you turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest.

“First, keeping me safe is fine, tackling me is a bit much. I had the guy, I was gonna pull the trigger, but you just…” You shoo your head, putting your hands up to mimic leaping a little, and he laughed softly. You felt his arm curl around your waist as he pulled you closer, and ducked in to kiss your forehead.

“Okay, fine. I’m _sorry_ that I tackled you in the most dramatic way to keep you alive.”

                Damn it, it was hard to stay mad at him. But you were still going to try, nudging him away so you could get dress, and move to the bed. Nick snickered, then, stripping to boxers, clicking off the light, and climbing onto the bed behind you, snaking his arm around your waist.

“You still mad?”

“Might be.” He hummed, ducking his head to kiss your shoulder and prompting a squeak when he nipped at your skin. “Nick! Stop that,” you laughed, wriggling against him.

“You know I did it because I didn’t _know_ you had him in your sight, right? And if somethin’ were to happen to you…” he said softly, burying his nose in your throat, and you sighed. Yeah, you knew. You felt the same way about him. You didn’t reply, but you did move your hand, lacing your fingers with his against your stomach, blushing at the feeling of his smile pressed to your shoulder. “Are we okay?”

“…just go to sleep.” But there was a smile in your voice, and when you pressed a kiss to the arm he’d slipped under your head, he grinned, curling that arm up to fully draw you back against his chest, tangling his legs with yours as he kissed the back of your head. And yeah, he knew you guys were okay.


	6. Torres x Reader - "Damn, you're strong for a little thing."

**requested by anonymous.**

             The best thing you found to do, after a rough day, or a rough week, was to go to the gym. And you had always hated the gym, honestly, but the place let you work off a  _lot_  of aggression, and let’s face is, after working at NCIS, working cases, aggression sort of built up inside you, whether you realized it or not.

               This time, Nick joined you for a grapple on the mat. The room was filled with the sounds of the both of you grunting, thumping against the mat as he knocked you down, as you pulled him down, as you both got up and repeated. This was normal. This helped. Hell, this was actually fun.

               Nick threw his arm out, clotheslining you and knocking you flat onto the mat with a sharp grunt, snickering as he turned to see you, splayed out and huffing with your eyes closed.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, smirking, chuckling when you gave him the finger.

“I’m fine, Torres. Just help me up.”

“Ahhh, alright, alright.” Shifting his feet, he grasped your outstretched hand, pulling you up to your own feet.

               He cried out, surprised, when, as soon as you were standing, you spun away from him, and yanked his arm, flipping him over your shoulder and dropping him onto his back on the mat. You grinned as you twisted, and dropped, pinning him to the ground as he huffed, frowning.

“Damn, you’re strong for a little thing.”

“Ah, Nick. It’s not the size that counts, remember? It’s the force behind it,” you teased, grinning, although you may –  _may_  – have squealed when he suddenly flipped you both, and pinned you to the mat, grinning.

“You sure about that?”

“…you know what, I got no witty response, because I don’t know if we’re talking about my strength, or if you’re flirting,” you admitted, as Nick laughed, and ducked his head.

“With you, I’m always flirting. But that in particular was about your strength,” he replied, as you wriggled a bit under him, before groaning, and flopping back on the mat.

“Nothing to do with my strength or size. I am worn out. You might have to carry me out.”

               You screeched in surprise as he hopped to his feet, and hoisted you up to your feet before slinging you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“I can do that.”

“Put me down!”

“Nope! You told me to carry you, so let’s boogie!”


	7. Torres x Reader - “I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.” + “I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius!”

**Requested by anonymous**

 

               You were so excited to come back to DC, and not just because you were getting back to work, and you were going to be  _home_. You were excited because you were going to get see your team, your friends. Nick. God, you were  _thrilled_  to get to see Nick. You two had been sort-of dating, and majorly flirting for  _months_ , and god, the feelings were so thick sometimes, you had to fight them off.

               You bounced off the elevator, grinning as you rounded into the pen and saw Nick at his desk.

“Good morning, Torres.” He twisted in his chair, and smiled, and boy did that do something to you as you patted his shoulder, and dropped your bag by your desk.

“Hey, Y/N! Good to have you back, how was it bein’ away?”

“Uh, relaxing and boring,” you replied with a snicker, flopping into your chair as you sighed. “Good to be back…what?” you frowned, tapping your keyboard. It beeped, but nothing happened, until something inside the keyboard snapped. You flinched, yanking back, and then squealed when your keyboard popped, and shot you with foam. “Oh my god!”

               Nick was cracking up across from you as you flailed, chair sliding just enough on the carpet before you cried out and tipped backwards, hitting the floor with a grunt. The sound of him laughing made you thrust out your foot and kick the desk, huffing.

“Wha?” he exclaimed, laughing.

“I’m going to kick your ass,” you huffed, struggling to get up.

“I didn’t do it!” Nick grinned.

“Then why are you laughing?!”

“Because whoever did it is a freaking genius!”

               You had just stood up, and huffed at him, when the pop came again, only, instead of foam, the buttons flew off the keyboard, startling you as they pinged off your forehead and cheek. You tossed your hands up to stop them, yanking the keyboard down to the floor so it stopped at least assaulting her. Nick was having a ball, laughing his ass off at his desk, but instead of laughing, too, you groaned, and stormed off to the bathroom.

               The foam came off your clothes just fine, and the keys only left a small red dot where they hit you. It was what wound up staying behind once the foam was wiped away from your skin that made you mad. A small red irritation was forming on your fingers, the backs of your hands, your arms, and a couple spots on your neck by the time you reached the bathroom, and you could have spit, you were so angry. Leave it to the prankster – which you were pretty sure was either Abby or McGee – to use a foam that you apparently had a bad reaction to.

               Nick was still snickering when you came out, but you stared at your desk, at the foam, and sighed, grabbing your bag carefully off the floor before moving to the elevator. He jumped out of his chair, chasing you and skidding into the box before the doors closed, brow furrowed in concern.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, you just got back, where ya goin’?”

“I’m going to the pharmacy to get an antihistamine,” you replied, holding out your hands, and frowning as he hissed at the rash on your hands.

“What happened?”

“The foam, smart ass. The foam. I’m apparently allergic to it.” Nick frowned, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry I laughed. It was hysterical, the way the key just bounced right off your forehead, but, I’m sorry I laughed.” You swallowed, hard, and looked at him, before sighing, and reaching out to hit the Emergency Stop button, startling him.

               Though, not nearly as startled as he was when, instead of stepping back to where you’d been standing, you moved and pressed a very firm kiss to his cheek. His hand found your hip, almost out of habit, before you pulled away, and he turned his head, curious.

“…what was that for?” You stared at him, before sighing, and patting his shoulder.

“I love you. You  _enormously_  stubborn pain in the ass.” He snorted, startled, before tilting his head down and kissing you softly. You had been terrified to ever say those words, but when he pulled away, and murmured  _I love you too_  against your lips, all those nerves were gone, and you couldn’t help but grin, and steal another kiss.


	8. Gibbs' Team - "Somebody's cranky" + "I didn't do it!"

 

               Ellie was huffing when she got off the elevator, shaking her head as she moved to her desk. Nick turned his head at the sound of her dropping her bag hard to the floor­­, and frowned as she flopped onto her chair.

“Somebody’s cranky.” Ellie’s eyes snapped towards him, brow drawn down.

“Somebody needs to shut up.”

“Ooh!” he exclaimed, hands going up as he spun in his chair to face her, McGee  _ooh_ ing from his desk, too.

“Dang, Bishop! What happened to you this morning?” Nick asked, climbing from his chair as she huffed, and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just…woke up wrong this morning. Coffee maker broke. Coffee shop had a water leak and was  _shut down_. Traffic on the way in, I just. Ugh. I would  _kill_  for coffee,” she groaned, throwing her head down on her desk as Nick and McGee shared a glance, brows quirked.

“Well, try not to kill me, Ellie, hm?” Clayton asked, as he leaned over the partition between him and her.

“If you have coffee for me, no one dies,” she replied, voice muffled into her desk.

               Clayton was silent for a minute, so Ellie groaned again, reluctantly lifting her head and turning around. His hand was extended over the wall, a coffee cup in it with her name on the side, and she squealed, leaping out of her chair.

“Clayton, you’re the best!”

“I do my best, Ellie,” he promised, grinning and winking as Nick rolled his eyes.

“Thank you for bringing her a coffee, Reeves, because  _Ellie in a bad mood is no fun_ ,” McGee called from his desk, giving Reeves a thumbs up.

“Ah, my pleasure,” he replied, putting his cup down. “What had Ellie in a bad mood anyway?”

“Ugh. Don’t get her started,” Nick huffed, hands up as he moved back to his chair.

               Shrugging, Clayton set his cup on his desk, unbuttoning his jacket as he moved to sit down.

               He shouted, as he started to roll forward, as his chair collapsed, and he slammed his feet on the underside of his desk as he flailed and fell backwards to the floor, chair rolling in pieces out from under him.

               The pen was silent for about a second, before Nick burst out laughing, throwing his head back so hard that he, too, toppled backwards out of his chair, squawking but still laughing. The entire debacle had Ellie clamping her hands over her mouth, cackling so hard her face went red, and McGee stared even as he laughed, too.

“I’m gonna get you for this, Nicholas!” Clayton shouted without moving, as Nick hollered.

“I didn’t do it!” he gasped through his laughs.

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Because whoever did it is a freaking genius!” he answered, struggling finally to his feet as Ellie finally caught her breath, and moved to help Clayton to his feet.

“When I find out who did that to my chair, I’m going to string them up by their toes,” Clayton grumbled, fighting a snicker of his own as Ellie wiped her hands over his back, still giggling.

               McGee didn’t have the heart to tell them that it was Abby who unscrewed Clayton’s chair.


	9. DiNozzo x Reader - "I turned out liking you more than I originally planned."

               Stakeouts were not your favorite thing, but it didn’t stop you from being volunteered to go on with DiNozzo. Hell, you actually preferred the idea of the stakeout more than spending that time in a car with Tony. He was just…such a guy, in your eyes. Flirty, and smirking, and so sure that you were going to flirt back. It was just the kind of thing to piss you off.

               But here you were, watching intently through the passenger window as you sipped your coffee, listening to him flirt beside you.

“You seem like a yoga person. You do yoga, Y/N?” You huffed, swallowing hard against the hot coffee, before tilting your head just enough to see him.

“Tony, I will only ask you this one time. Jesus Christ.  _Stop_. I am just trying to watch the movement in the damn warehouse,” you told him, putting your cup back in the console. You usually tried to give people a chance, but Tony pretty much started on the wrong foot. He frowned at you, and thumped back in his seat, eyes going back out the window.

               As much as you didn’t like the flirting, the silence was…worse. It made you feel bad for snapping at him, but it was late, so you just nestled into the seat, and sighed as you two watched.

               It was hours before you hunched forward over your phone, pulling up the file on the guy you two were watching for. A suspected murderer, this guy, and you huffed, mumbling a bit to yourself as you put the phone away.

“Figures, we’re staking out a possible killer.”

“My theory is that everyone is a potential murderer,” Tony replied, and you hesitated, slowly turning to see him, brows up. “…what?” he asked, defensive.

“Did you just quote Strangers on a Train at me?” you asked.

“…might have.”

“You did.” He cocked a brow, head tilted just a little.

“So what? You gonna hurt me?” You smirked, slow, lowering your brows.

“I have the perfect weapons right here – these two hands.” Tony grinned as he realized you were quoting the movie, too.

“You like Strangers?”

“You serious? It’s Cinema Gold, really, really only topped by Hitchcock.” Tony’s gasp made you frown. “What?”

“You Hitchcock?”

“…doesn’t everyone?”

               It was like opening the floodgates, talking about movies, because all of a sudden, it was daybreak, and your replacements were parking behind your car. Tony hummed, rubbing at his eyes as he glanced in the mirror, signaling, before you both pulled away from the curb.

“Guess we can go back…” You reached out, as he reached the stop sign, and patted his arm.

“I turned out liking you more than I originally planned. Sorry about last night, Tony.” He shrugged, grinning a bit.

“I overflirt sometimes. You should know, you’ve unleashed the beast, though, now that we’re on movie terms.” You smirked, glancing towards him.

“Bring it  _on_ , DiNozzo.”


	10. Gibbs + “I didn’t know where to go.” “I got you, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

 

               The basement was quiet, save for the sound of Gibbs working on his boat. The slow and rhythmic  _shhkt_  of the sandpaper as he smoothed some of the rough spots on the wood was rather calming, his mind free to wander, seeing as he’d done this so many times he could do it in his sleep. He was just leaning into run his palm over the wood and check for missed spots when he heard a frantic pounding upstairs. Frowning towards the door, Gibbs tossed the sandpaper onto the boat, and reached for the sidearm he kept downstairs. It was late. No one should be there, let alone pounding at the door.

               The sight of you through the glass made him pause long enough to set the gun down before he opened the door to you, watching you spin towards him in surprise. Your eyes were bloodshot, skin pale, and you were trembling, though it was certainly not cold enough outside to prompt it.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry, I know it’s late, I just didn’t know where to go,” you whimpered, and god, you looked so broken and so sad, Gibbs nodded, pushing the door closed as he moved his arm, welcoming you in. He grunted softly as you slammed into him, arms curled around his waist.

               You’d been friends with Gibbs for years – it was hard not to, living across the street from him for that long. It was only recently that any interest had been shown in either direction, but you had never pressed, knowing Gibbs wasn’t always a relationship-guy, or a touchy-feely guy, or that sort of thing.

               But after a break-in a couple weeks prior, you were still shaken, and terrified, and as much as you expected it, the nightmares were crushing you. And most times, you dealt with it, you turned on lights and watched something distracting on TV. But tonight? Tonight, it was clawing at you in the dark, you had to get rid of it, you just couldn’t  _breathe_  inside your home. So you went to the one place you felt like you could.

               He wrapped his arms around you, hand cupping the back of your head, frowning but not shoving you away.

“I got you, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, I just…”

“Nope…you don’t have to apologize,” he assured you, voice low, as he rubbed a hand on your back, as you pulled back, sniffling, wiping a hand over your face. “Nightmares?” Your eyes flickered up, confused as to how he knew, and his lips ticked as he turned to point towards your house. “I see the light go on, I can figure it out.” You nodded, then, sighing.

“Nightmares.” He squeezed your shoulder, glancing at the door, before leading you into the living room.

“Come on…coffee or beer?” he offered, getting you settled into the couch before moving towards the living room.

“Uh…beer,” you shrugged, smiling softly and accepting the bottle he brought back to you. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he answered, clicking the television on, and sitting down on the couch beside you.

               The movie was an old western, whatever was playing at one in the morning, something you were sure you’d seen when you were younger. But you barely paid attention, when Gibb’s hand found yours on the cushion between you, squeezing your hand comfortingly, and then stayed there, as you sipped your beer. The nightmares  _sucked_ , but the half-smile Gibbs gave you when you glanced at him absolutely made you feel better.


	11. Torres + “I don’t know if you noticed…but we’re in a party.” + “You can dance with me…if you want!” + “So…you think I’m hot?”

               Undercover work was rare, really, for the team, and as much as everyone was glad for it, Nick missed it, from time to time. He was himself, but he wasn’t, at the same time. So when the person you guys were after, the guy you couldn’t arrest yet but you could sure as hell follow, went into a club downtown, Nick volunteered the two of you to go in watch.

               Almost as soon as you both walked in, dressed to go clubbing (you had to fit in, after all), you could see this wasn’t just a club, it was a fucking  _party_ , and you huffed, following Nick as he strolled way too casually towards the bar. Your hand came up to bump his shoulder, hopping closer as he glanced back at you.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re in a  _party_ ,” you called to be heard over the music. He chuckled, shrugging, glancing around.

“And?”

“ _And_ , even the bartender is dancing! You know how fast we’ll be outed?” Nick quirked his brow, stopping and looking over to see that, yeah, the bartenders were dancing behind the bar, before leaning towards you.

“Well, don’t want that! You can dance with me…if you want!” he offered, hand warm on your side, and fuck you were glad the lights were low, that the room was mostly lit with the wild-colored lights overhead, so he couldn’t see how deep you blushed.

“Not dancin’ with myself, Torres,” you huffed, leading him onto the floor.

               With the suspect down in interrogation with Gibbs and Torres, you threw yourself down beside Bishop’s desk, knees thumping on the floor as you dropped your head onto her desk. She squeaked in surprise, before laughing at your deep groan.

“Problem?”

“ _He’s so hot,_ Bishop, you all suck for partnering me up with him,” you grumbled, shaking your head.

“Y/N…” she snickered.

“We danced! Do you know what kind of dancing you do in a club? Sexy dancing. The man can  _dance_ , like, it’s not hard enough that he can dance, and he’s funny, he’s  _hot_ ,” you whined, finally lifting your head.

“….Y/N,” Bishop repeated, without the laugh. You frowned at the surprise on her face, but before you could ask, she patted your arm. “Uh. I’m out. Sorry,” she said quickly, bolting away from her desk. Startled, you turned around, and immediately felt your face burn at the sight of Torres, five feet away, fighting a smirk.

“Oh, god damn it.”

“So…you think I’m hot?”

“Shut up, Nick,” you murmured, wishing you’d left instead of saying anything. He clicked his tongue, though, strolling across towards you, and reached out to help you to your feet.

“Not mocking. You think I’m hot?”

“If you were standing there long enough, you know the answer to that,” you replied. God, you weren’t sure you ever felt so exposed and embarrassed. Nick’s hand squeezed yours, sighing, prompting you to finally look up, praying it wasn’t going to hurt to hear. He studied your face for a second, before his free hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“…you busy tonight? I know a great Thai place.”


	12. Torres x Reader - "So...you think I'm hot?"

             The desks were full, as you rolled your eyes, shifting to chuck your pencil at Torres as he squawked.

“’ey! I didn’t do it, bonita, alright? You know, it’s more McGee’s taste, to booby-trap a desk,” he replied, as McGee huffed from a few feet away.

“I would never!”

“Oh come on!” Bishop laughed.

“Okay, okay, I would, but rigging a trick flower in someone’s top drawer isn’t necessarily my taste, you know? I put foam in the keyboard, or…or…” he trailed, contemplating.

“Or rigging the keyboard to loading pictures of Nicholas Cage when you hit Enter,” Bishop added, as you cackled.

“Exactly! Look, Torres, you’re hot, but you are  _not_  clever enough to mask a prank as a McGee-Prank, okay?” you pointed out, tossing a paperclip at him before yanking the flower out of your drawer, and throwing it at him as Bishop laughed, and headed off with a file for Abby. McGee snickered, pointing.

“That’s my point, man. If you were gonna successfully blame a prank on me, you were gonna have to do something a lot more…digital.” Torres groaned, waving him off, before a smirk curled his lips, and he leaned forward on the desk to see you, brow quirked.

“…what?” you asked.

“So…you think I’m hot?” he asked, and you blushed automatically, even as you rolled your eyes.

“Course I do. The entire planet thinks you’re hot, this can’t be a surprise to you,” you answered, as McGee snickered.

“The planet isn’t a surprise, but you are,” he replied, with the flirtiest tone you’d ever heard, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Torres. Come on. I do not just agree to dinner and drinks with  _anyone_ , you absolute  _dork_ ,” you murmured at him, winking as Gibbs came around the wall to his desk.

“Grab your gear, we got a dead Marine.” Even as the team scrambled to get their gear, Nick hesitated when your hand brushed his, smirking and winking at you, as you followed Gibbs to the elevator.


	13. Gibbs x Reader - “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.” + “Who gave you that black eye?” + “I won’t let you get hurt.”

              There were a lot of things to love about Jethro. He was a great cook – no one could make a steak like he could, no matter how much you paid for it. He had a great laugh. He knew a lot about cars, or, at least enough to keep you from having to spend thousands on yours every time something clanged in the engine.  

               There were also a lot of things to  _not_ love about him. Like the fact that he honestly seemed to have no idea what you were talking about when you mentioned anything about your cell phone or a computer (although that was easy to get over).

               Or how quickly he knew something was wrong when you sat down across from him at the diner. Honestly, you thought you’d done fine with your makeup, you looked at yourself in several different mirrors, in different lighting, and you couldn’t see the makeup you put on yourself. But the way he stared at you, you had a feeling you just prayed it wasn’t obvious.

“…what?” you finally asked.

“I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid. Who gave you that black eye?” he asked, scowling as you ducked your head, like he knew you were going to try and play it off.

“Jethro…”

“No,” he interrupted, putting his cup down. “We’ve gone over this. I won’t let you get hurt. Who is it?” he asked, and honestly, you were surprised that so much came out of his mouth at once, most “conversations” with Jethro in public were you talking and him chuckling small responses.

“…you know who, Jethro,” you caved quietly, sighing as he tossed money on the table and got up.

You didn’t follow, not immediately, but when you did, you caught him at his car, just getting the door open.

“Jethro, please…” He shook his head, ready for an argument, until you touched his arm. “I called the cops, okay, he’s in a cell right now. I’m okay, I promise. Just…please don’t. Come back inside.” Jethro stared down into the car for a second, before turning to see you, frowning.

“Restraining order?”

“Already on it. It’s…part of why I’m late.”

“…if I see him, Y/N-“

“You have my permission to shoot him.” He cracked, then, a small laugh huffing out of his mouth, and he sighed, shutting his car door. “Can we go eat? Please?” Jethro looked at your face, then, and sighed again, reaching out to put his hand on your back.

“Come on…my treat.”

“Well, duh,” you teased, as he rolled his eyes and smiled at you.


	14. DiNozzo  x Reader - “Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.”

“I can’t believe it!” Tony’s loud voice startled you as you walked into the flat, wide-eyed, and you shut the door, crossing towards the kitchen.

“Tony?” He turned around, laptop open on the counter, frowning as you pulled your bag over your head. “You look…weird. What’s up?” He pointed, grunting, as you dropped your bag onto the chair, and slid up beside him in the kitchen, hand brushing his back as you looked at the laptop.

               Pulled up on the screen were pictures of McGee and Delilah, in the living room of the apartment they got from Tony, and if you didn’t know any better…

“Is this a wedding?”

“yes!” he shouted, making you flinch, and snicker. “I didn’t even get invited! And that’s my apartment!” You swatted his side, laughing, and shook your head as you shoved him away from the computer, tapping at the keys.

“No,  _this_  is your apartment, you should know that, because your daughter’s room is down the hall, and I am the one to wake you up this morning to look at the lights of the Eiffel Tower before dawn,” you pointed out, as he huffed.

“Not the point!”

“Look, don’t be an asshole. Asshole. Be happy for Tim, he’s  _happy_ , look at his face!” you said, pointing at the picture of him grinning at his now-wife. Tony huffed, and you turned, tugging at his hand to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Tim deserves to be happy.”

“No, I know,” he grumbled. “I just…in my place? And before me?”

“Oh for god sakes, it’s  _not yours anymore_ ,” you reminded him, “and you can get married  _anytime,_ Tony, but that’s not our focus right now and you know it,” you added, tapping a few keys and bringing up the Video Chat, with McGee’s name across the screen. “So put on a smile, congratulate McGee, and find out if he and Delilah want to come visit so we can celebrate them getting married like only you fucking can,” you chuckled, poking him in the side. He stared at you for a second, lowering his head to kiss your forehead sweetly, as you turned towards the computer as McGee’s pixeled face appeared.

“Hey, guys!” he called, and you grinned, throwing your hands in the air.

“Congratulations, Timmy!” you laughed, as Tony snickered, unable to help himself with how excited you were.

“It is about  _time_ , McGoober!” The groan Tim sounded at the nickname was well worth listening to Tony be a sort-of asshole.


	15. Gibbs x Reader - “If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.” + “You’re strong, baby. You have to be.”

“Can someone explain to me why we chased a suspect into a house of fucking horrors?” you hissed through the comms, gun ready, scanning the room as you wound your way around the weapon displays hanging from the ceiling.

 “Because he ran in here. Can’t let him go,” Gibbs grunted, ten feet behind you, and you jumped to the left as one of the lurching creatures jumped out from the wall to your right. Fucking haunted houses.

 “Fine. But if I die, I’m going to haunt your ass,” you huffed, taking the turn. The soft sound of Gibbs huffing, fighting a snicker, make your lips tick up as you ducked into the next room, clicking your flashlight to scan the room quickly.

           With no sight of the suspect, you clicked the light back off and returned to the hallway, now behind Gibbs. The next lurching display didn’t bother you, but when two mechanical spiders dropped from the ceiling, one of them popping into your head, you shrieked, nearly shooting the thing as you scrambled forward.

“It’s not real,” Gibbs reminded you, as you twisted towards him, glaring.

“Don’t sass me, Jethro, you know I hate this shit,” you growled, struggling to stop the tremble of your hand as you two turned down the next hall.

“We got ‘im, Boss! You two can get outta there now!” McGee fizzled over the comms, and you sighed, shoving your weapon into the holster and plucking our your comm as you stormed by Gibbs. He frowned, holstering his own as he followed, hand catching your arm.

“Y/N…”

“Don’t start with me, okay? I  _hate this shit_ ,” you grumbled, even though you did let him stop you from walking away, and turned to lean into him. Gibbs chuckled, then, rubbing his hand lightly over the back of your vest.

“You’re strong, baby. You have to be.” You frowned, hands light on his hips, as you turned your head to see him.

“…why do I have to be?”

“…because we’re only halfway through the haunted house. Still gotta get out.”

“…ah, fuck,” you sighed, thumping your head on his shoulder as he laughed lightly at your groan.

“C’mon, Y/N. Get through this without shooting anything, I’ll make steak.” You groaned again, rolling your head on his shoulder as you struggled to work up the courage to move back through the haunted house, but after a second, you quirked a brow, and slowly lifted your head to see him, hopeful.

“…promise?”


	16. DiNozzo x Reader + “You can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay.” + “I broke your nose, and I’m sorry for that. But what you’re doing isn’t fair.”

 

                The elevator doors slid shut as you stood near the left wall, arms crossed over your chest. You fought the urge to touch your face, struggling to ignore the thrumming ache in your head as well as you were ignoring the agent with you in the box. Tony glanced at you, and sighed, reaching out to switch the Emergency Stop on before he hugged you. Grunting, you shoved him away, shaking your head.

“You can’t just hug me, and think everything’s okay. Get to your corner,” you growled, hitting the button to start the box again. Tony sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Look. I broke your nose, and  _I’m sorry_ for that, but what you’re doing isn’t fair.” You scoffed, twisting to see him, and extended your hands in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,  _fair_? You  _clubbed me_  with the butt of your gun even after I told you I was right there, but your right,  _me being angry at you for it_  isn’t fair.” Tony scowled.

“Y/N! I didn’t  _hear_  you tell me anything! We were doing a bust, people do not sneak up on a-“ You shoved him, hard, just as the doors opened.

“Sneak up on you?  _Sneak up on you_? No, no. I did  _not_  sneak up on you, god damn it, I announced myself  _twice_ , you just were not paying attention. I’m not in your head, Tony. I announced myself  _twice_  because I didn’t know if you heard me the first time. Do you know how easy it would have been to just  _shoot_  me?” you snapped, storming out of the box, flinching at the growing ache behind the bandage on your nose.

“Y/N, c’mon!” he called, jogging after you. You shook your head, hissing, and stopped only to grab your things from your desk. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m going home,  _alone_ , to sleep, because I’m  _angry_ , and you think that it’s  _unfair_  of me to be. So get your head out of your ass and  _honestly_ apologize and let it go tomorrow, or I’ll remove your head from your ass, and it will be much less pleasant,” you snapped, nodding at Gibbs as you stormed by his desk to the other elevators.


	17. Gibbs x Reader + “Mind if I join you?”

              It wasn’t often that you worked late, but it happened. You were NCIS, working late and weekends was warned when you got hired. When you realized it was after one, though, you shook your head, and closed up your office, tugging the door closed before heading out. It wasn’t on the way, to go through the pen, but you had taken to going that way out of habit, now, for an excuse to at least see Gibbs.

               Gibbs, who was still at his desk, rubbing his eyes.

               You watched him for a moment, silent, before disappearing back up to your office. After a few minutes, you came back down, and slipped towards his desk, smiling at him as you handed him a coffee cup. He eyed it, confused, before glancing up at you, curious.

“Where’d this come from?”

“Uh, the machine I keep very well hidden in my office,” you answered, smiling as he chuckled, and took a sip. He was a man of few words, but you could see the smile tick on his lips, so you knew you’d done well. “You guys working a case?”

“Almost always. Dead petty officer,” he replied, nodding, setting his cup down. You could see the file on his desk, but you could also see him not really  _looking_  at it, even if he seemed to be, so you sighed, tucking your hair off your face.

“Mind if I join you?” Gibbs looked up at you again, and shrugged, pointing towards a chair. “Tough case?”

“Hmm. Pretty sure he was killed by his sister…just trying to get the proof.” You nodded, sipping your coffee.

               It was never uncomfortable, sitting with Gibbs, even if the two of you didn’t talk. But you could see the man blinking slower and slower, and you chuckled softly, reaching out for his arm.

“Jethro.” He blinked a little quicker, turning to see you. “You should get some rest. And, before you say it, you don’t have to go home, I have a couch in my office you’re welcome to use.”

               Really, you were surprised it didn’t take much convincing, so you led him back to your office after that, plucking a pillow and blanket out from the bottom drawers of one of your files cabinets. He chuckled a little as you got him set up, and reached for his jacket to hang on the door.

“What about you, Y/N?” he asked, sitting down and working off his shoes. You glanced towards him, then your watch, and then the door, and shrugged, smiling a little.

“…mind if I join you?”

               Honestly?

               Even if your couch was barely big enough for both of you, it was probably the best night sleep either of you had had in a long time.


	18. Torres x Reader + “The skirt is supposed to be this short.” + “You look pretty hot in plaid.”

“I thought you said we were going to meet your brother!” Nick called as you came out of the bathroom. You frowned, and shrugged.

“We are. You look worried.” He huffed, pointing at you. “What?”

“You wear that to meet family?” he asked, as you slowly looked down at yourself, shrugging.

“Nick…the skirt is  _supposed_  to be this short. Besides. I’m putting leggings on, I just forgot to bring them in there with me,” you countered, shaking your head with a chuckle. “Now, if we were meeting with my mother, you could question me,” you added, as he chuckled, propping his foot on the end of the bed to tie his shoes.

               He watched you shimmy into your leggings, a silly smile on his face, before you turned, and studied him, slow smirk on yours.

“…what?” he finally asked, as he started for the bathroom. You laughed, and followed, leaning on the door as you motioned to him.

“You…look pretty hot in plaid.” Nick peered at himself, and shrugged, grinning cockily.

“Is that so? Heh, I hadn’t noticed,” he answered, and you rolled your eyes, slipping up behind him and curling your arms around his waist.

“You fucking dork. You nervous?”

“Always.” You kissed his cheek, patting his arm.

“Don’t be. He’s gonna love you.”

With another quick kiss, you headed off to find your shoes. Nick took a deep breath, to relax, but he knew you were probably right. You were when you introduced him to your friends, and to your sister. With a soft huff, he finished getting ready in the bathroom, before you hummed from the other room.

“Now…my  _father_ , on the other hand…”


	19. Gibbs x Reader - cry tears of joy, cause you’re alive cradled in love {lyric prompt}

           After all these years with a badge and a gun, and the years before that with a gun and no badge, Gibbs had been through more than his share of shitty, violent experiences. Very little surprised him anymore. So when he got held in Paraguay, with McGee, Gibbs didn’t register it. He fought it. He partitioned things in his mind to take care of McGee as best he could and figure out a way to get them home. He analyzed.

           Despite his torture, his bruises, his damage, he came home, finally. You had been out of town when he first came home, you didn’t even know he’d made it back until you returned, and saw his lights on, his car in the drive, his silhouette in the window. You were so glad to see he was back as you peered out the living room window from your house across the street. And you gave him a little bit to go in, to get settled, before you went over, too, and knocked. Gibbs looked unsure, when he appeared through the glass on the other side of the door. He hesitated when he saw you, but with a quick reach out to unlock the door, he let you in, smile ticking the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, Jethro…” With a wave of his hand, he shut the door behind you, and led you back towards the kitchen. “I…didn’t realize you were home.”

“Yeah. Got back about a week ago. Surprised you haven’t come by yet,” he admitted, and you leaned against the doorway, watching him dig into the fridge and offer you a bottle of beer.

“Been out of town.”

           You took the bottle he was holding out to you, but put it in your other hand as you reached back out to touch his arm, pulling his focus to you. Gibbs had sort of been dreading seeing you, not for the act of actually seeing you, but because when he let himself think about it, he knew you’d be worried. He knew you’d worry if he was okay, if he was going to still want to see you at all, he  _knew_ , and honestly, he had little – if any – answers, if the questions arose. He stared back at you, waiting for those questions, and honestly, they burned in your throat. You were desperate to ask him what might change in the space between you two, but you could see his face, you could see the reluctance hidden behind his eyes.

           So instead, you turned, put your beer on the counter, and turned back, curling your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his shoulder.

           Two months of torture and starvation and everything else in Paraguay, Gibbs partitioned things so he could focus. He couldn’t partition this, the comforting warmth of you pressed in against him, your hands gentle on his back. Gibbs’ hands found their way around your frame, face nestled in against your shoulder. His eyes burned, just a little, and you heard the small sniff, but you said nothing, holding him a little tighter. He was glad to be home, and glad to be alive, and of all the times in his life that burn was for terrible reasons, this time, it wasn’t. This time, he was grateful to be here, and more grateful that you were the one holding onto him so tightly that he finally started to feel grounded, for the first time since coming home.


	20. Bishop – 8 – Don’t think I’m all in this world, I don’t think I’ll be here too long (lyric prompt)

**Bishop – 8 – Don’t think I’m all in this world, I don’t think I’ll be here too long**

               Bishop hadn’t been the same, really, not since they pulled her out of the hands of the man who took her, tied her, tortured her. She still smiled at the team, but there was something hollow behind it, something they hadn’t seen since Qasim’s death. It wasn’t easy, what could they do? Every one of them tried to pull her out, to help her feel better, to make things okay, and at first, she let them. She went along with it, because it made _them_ feel better.

               But then she went off on Clayton when he pressed to try and get her to smile, really smile, and she stormed out. And the team just didn’t know what to do.

               The water was calm, as she sat on the bench, legs tucked beneath her frame. The presence she felt slipping up behind her normally would have made her jump, but instead she sighed, leaning her arms against her thighs, as McGee sat down beside her.

“…wasn’t easy to find you.”

“You’re a hacker, Tim.”

“…wasn’t easy for a normal person to find you,” he amended, looking out at the water, too. “Wanna talk?” Bishop sighed.

“No, Tim. I still really don’t want to talk.” He nodded, tapping his foot on the concrete beneath the bench.

“Bishop…you are our family. Trust me…I know how this feels.”

“You were taken with Gibbs. You had someone with you to help you get out, Tim, and you had Delilah to come home to. Do you know what I have?” she asked, voice soft, as she turned her head to finally look at him. “Me. I have me. I was alone in that room through all of it. I had no one to assure me I was going to get out, to help me figure out how to escape. I had nothing. I was all alone, and I was coming home to _nothing_.” McGee frowned, shaking his head.

“Not nothing, Bishop. You have _all of us_.”

It made Bishop scoff, but she didn’t know how to explain to McGee that, trapped in the room with the monster that tried to rip her apart while keeping her heart beating, everything fell away. She was alone, she was forcing herself to hide her fear, she was in pain, and she was coming to terms with the fact that she wasn’t staying. Not in the room. In this life. Even if she escaped, how could she come back? How did anyone? She still couldn’t wrap her head around how anyone came back from this.

But McGee studied her face, in the silence, and he sighed. He had no idea how he came back, either, but he didn’t do it alone. With another glance up at her, at the resigned look in her eyes, McGee reached out, hand light on her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have made it back…without you. Without Nick. Without Clayton. Without everyone. It’s the hardest thing, Ellie, letting someone in after the darkness tries to take you. But I wouldn’t still be breathing if I didn’t.”

               She wasn’t fixed. She wasn’t better. But McGee was so honest, and genuine, and honestly, the best comfort she’d had in a long time, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that, so instead, she let him put his arm around her shoulders, and lean her into his side. Wouldn’t hurt to play along. Hell. It might help.


	21. Sloane + 6 - Everybody’s gonna make mistakes, but everybody’s got a choice to make (lyric prompt)

**Sloane + 6 -** _**Everybody’s gonna make mistakes, but everybody’s got a choice to make** _

               When Jack came to DC, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She acted like she did, confidence was key, and most of the time, she oozed confidence, but really, it was hard to estimate anything with Gibbs involved. She was adjusting fine, which she had planned for – as best as anyone could, really – and hell, she was getting used to coming down to help out on a case.

               This one was a hard one.

               Jack stood in observation with Gibbs, watching the man inside the room sit still, quiet, staring back at the mirror she was behind.

“What’s he tellin’ ya, Jack?” Gibbs asked, after waiting for her to say something.

“…not as much as he should be. The way he carries himself, the way he responded when we arrested him, he’s not afraid to be here, and he is confident that we’re not going to have anything on him…but…there’s something else here. And I don’t know what it is.” Gibbs turned to face her, one brow quirked, as she huffed. “It does happen, just not often.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“it’s all over your face.” She looked back at the glass, and sighed.

Honestly, Jack hated making these calls, analyzing people, if she didn’t have something that was truly leading her in one direction. This man, this suspect in interrogation, his demeanor led her in any direction, because it made everything plausible. If she told Gibbs the wrong one, they could lose their chance to break him. But. If Jack told Gibbs nothing, people were going to die. And she never told Gibbs _nothing_. She had to make a choice.

“He’s hiding something,” Jack finally said, pointing. “He knows where the bomb is, but he doesn’t realize it…must think it’s something else. Do we have the list of where he’s been?” she asked, accepting the paper Gibbs was holding out. Her eyes scanned it, studying the entries, before pointing, and holding it out to him. “That. It’s the only place that doesn’t fit.”

               There was something calming, pleasing, about the way Gibbs smirked at the mirror when the suspect cracked, panicked, barely a moment after Gibbs entered Interrogation armed with what she’d told him. Something reassuring, knowing that it didn’t always work out so well.


	22. Sloane + 10 – Cry tears of joy, cause you’re alive cradled in love  {lyric prompt}

               Helping the team figure out their bad guy was one thing, and it was something she did often. But helping the team on site during a takedown, that didn’t happen often. She hunkered down beside the car, watching the team go inside, glancing over her shoulder as medics waited, knowing there was a victim inside who should, hopefully, still be alive.

               The sounds of her screaming filtered through the broken window, and Sloane jerked her head up, knowing those screams were not to get attention, they were pain, and they were bad. And she knew the team was scouring a building amidst a firefight. When a bang of an explosion sounded from the warehouse, causing her and the medics to reel, she saw the smoke billow through the window the girl was in, and twisted, pointing at medics.

“Call the fire department!” she ordered, shedding her jacket, and bolting towards the building.

               It was hot, loud, and Jack was going blind, trying to hear the screams through the fire. The room was large and full of smoke, but she could hear sobbing as she got in, sweater pulled up over her mouth so she could try to breathe.

               The team had made it out, but only because the smoke and the flames forced them out. Medics caught them, pulled them away to check their eyes, their breathing, but Gibbs waved his off, looking around, frowning.

“Where the hell is Sloane?”

“She ran inside!” one of the medics hollered, pulled a sharp swear from Gibbs as he turned to march back in. The sound of glass shattering pulled focus, followed by the sight of Jack climbing through the window, pulling the victim with, and turning.

“I need a medic!” Gibbs jogged over, one medic at his side, as the victim sobbed, and coughed, grasping tightly to Jack. “You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart, okay, just go with the medic.” The victim didn’t want to move, but she nodded, sniffling, knees wobbling. “Promise…I’ll come check on you, but you’re safe now.”

“You need to see someone, too,” Gibbs told her, voice leaving no room for argument, but she didn’t respond, carefully passing the girl off to the medic, before leaning into Gibbs, gasping softly. “That was risky, Sloane, going in there.”

“They were trying to kill her…I couldn’t leave her,” she replied, and Gibbs helped her stand, leading her to one of the ambulances waiting, as the firetrucks pulled up.

With a glance down, he saw her smiling, despite the hoarse sound to her voice, the shake in her frame. Jack walked into a burning building in the middle of a shootout to save a screaming girl. She wasn’t panicking, as though she’d realized this, and he knew she had considered it all when she made the choice to go in.


	23. Gibbs x Reader + “Looks like we’re stuck here until the snow blows over.”

               Well, shit.

               You stood at the window, looking out at the parking lot, and scratched your fingers through your hair with a sigh.

“What’s up?” Oh…you didn’t realize you’d said that out loud, as you turned to see Gibbs standing from his chair.

“It’s snowing…like…really bad,” you told him, turning back and pointing at the glass. He frowned, crossing the floor, and sidled up to you, peering out at the snow falling and blowing so hard, you could barely see the lights in the lot.

“…yeah, it really is.”

“I mean…I can’t see the lot. How am I expected to see anything in order to get home?” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. Gibbs glanced at you, brow quirked, before shrugging, arm slipping over your back as you leaned into his side.

“Looks like we’re stuck here until the snow blows over, then.” You huffed.

“Yeah…guess so.” You sighed again, before tilting your head to see Gibbs, and smiling a little. “Case, or coffee?”

“Coffee,” he answered without a second thought, nodding.

“Come on,” you told him, shifting, and patting his arm. “Ducky let me store a pot downstairs so I can make  _real_  coffee.” Gibbs laughed softly, following you towards the back elevators.

“Well, then, I’m glad I chose coffee.”


	24. Gibbs x Reader + “You look good in my hoodie.”

               One thing you loved about DC was that you had a real winter. Snow on the ground, the brisk air as soon as the door opened. Perfect weather for cocoa, soup, hot drinks, hot food. The tree in the corner. Lights. Gifts.

               One thing you hated about DC was the fact that you had a  _real winter_ , with  _snow_ , and  _ice_ , and cold cold cold. Ugh.

               The sounds of Gibbs working in the basement made you smile as you dug around the bedroom for something to wear. You had clothes, but you were  _freezing_ , so, with a huff, you yanked on a hoodie, and headed back to the kitchen, pausing to look out through the door at the snow falling on the street. It made you chuckle, before moving to peruse the kitchen for food.

“You look good in my hoodie.” You jumped, turning sharply at the sound of Gibbs’ voice as he lingered in the doorway, and you glanced down at the black USMC hoodie you’d pulled on, smiling, blushing, and shrugging.

“It was warmer than my shirts.”

“Not complaining,” he assured you, pointing to the pack of steaks in your hand. “But I will, if you try to cook those.”

“You were busy with your boat.”

“Not anymore,” he countered, holding out his hand. You laughed, soft, and held the package out to him, ducking in to kiss his cheek.

“Fine. You cook. I’ll get the beer.”

“Deal.”


	25. DiNozzo x Reader + “Wait, don’t pull away…not yet.”

              Tony had been laughing and smiling and talking as you two moved down the hall of the hotel. It was work, and you were heading to check out a suspects room while he was in the party room celebrating the holidays with whatever people had reserved it for that night.

               But you squealed in surprise when he grabbed you, yanking you into an alcove, and pressed you against the wall, head tilted down and as close to you as possible without actually kissing you.

“Tony?” you gasped.

“He’s coming, shush,” he murmured, cupping your face, eyes darted to the side so he could listen. You held your breath, but you forgot you two were working, being so close to Tony. Swallowing hard, you felt your fingers curl in his jacket, and his eyes darted to yours, startled. “Y/N?” he asked, soft.

“…where is he?” you whispered, and he swallowed, too, tilting his head a little. Before he could turn, though, he heard the footsteps, and looked back at you. You had heard it, too, and nodded a little, surging up to kiss him.

               Tony pressed you harder against the wall, fingers curling in your hair, tilting your head to fit his lips well against yours, until yours parted beneath his, a groan filtering between you as you slid your hands under his jacket to pull him closer, fingers digging into his back. The kiss warmed you to your toes, sending a bolt of heat to your core as his tongue slid across yours before he pulled back, panting softly.

“Mmm…wait, don’t pull away…not yet,” your murmured, eyes too heavy to open, and Tony groaned, lips slamming back against yours, his whole body hot as it covered yours and pressed you completely into the wall.

               Despite being there to work, neither of you remembered it until someone cleared their throat, loudly, and forced the two of you apart.

“I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to take that to your rooms,” he commented, as Tony chuckled, panting, and dropped his hands – reluctantly – to yours.

“Uh, yeah…yeah, right, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat, as you ducked your head, blushing a dark crimson. The guy chuckled, shaking his head, and headed off, and you looked up at Tony, clearing your throat.

“…chances our guy went to his room?”

“…really good, I think…but…we can go check…and, uh…” The way he looked at you made you feel warm again, as you shuffled closer, leaning into his side.

“ _Or_ …” Tony smirked at the word, at how thick your voice was, at the curl of your lips, and glanced around, before nodding.

“Or.” With that, he led you outside, instead, knowing you two could make up a lie.

               Later.


	26. Gibbs x Reader + “You love me?”

               You hadn’t meant for him to hear you say it, not yet. Gibbs and you…well…you two were still working on things, you supposed. You weren’t even sure if he’d consider you two  _dating_ , but that was only because, sometimes, you really had trouble reading Gibbs. Most of that, you were sure, was  _you_ , not him.

               But he heard you, defending him to your sister on the phone, insisting you certainly didn’t care if she liked him, once she finally met him – you loved him, that was all that mattered.

“You love me?” You squeaked, nearly dropping your phone as you spun, and sighed at the sight of him looking at you, curious, from the kitchen.

“…you know, I’m pretty sure there’s rules and laws against eavesdropping,” you huffed, as he chuckled, shaking his head.

“You’re in my house, pretty sure they don’t apply here.” You had to give him that one, and shrugged, following him towards the kitchen.

“Touché. Alright. Fine. Yes. I do,” you admitted, leaning against the counter as he plated the spaghetti. He nodded, turning to toss things into the sink, before handing you your plate, peering up in a smile.

“Good.” You quirked a brow, curious, but took your plate and your drink to the table, thumping them on the wood before taking your seat.

Gibbs took the seat next to you, but before he started eating, he reached out, hand curling over your wrist, to get your attention. You knew this was probably hard for him, but it warmed the spaces inside you when he smiled at you, low, private, and met you halfway for a kiss.

Honestly, he didn’t need to say it back. That kiss, and that smile, told you everything you needed.


	27. Gibbs x Reader + “I’m here to take care of you.”

“You’re gonna burn them.” You huffed at Gibbs’ tone, and stepped out of the kitchen, pointing your fork at him.

“If you try to tell me how to cook again, I will burn them on principle.” He groaned, patting he table, as you stepped back to the stove. “And if you try to get up and come out here, I’m doubling your pain meds and letting you sleep it off on the couch.” Gibbs huffed, fighting off a grunt as he stood, and shifted on his booted foot.

“I can move around, Y/N, I can cook the st-“

“And I already told you. I’m here to take care of you.” With that, you stepped back into the doorway, narrowing your eyes. “So sit back down. Stop telling me I’m gonna burn them, and just enjoy.” You stood, threatening to go through on your promise to burn on principle, until he sat back down, and you moved to finish plating, balancing the plates on one arm as you grabbed drinks with the other, and headed to the table, putting everything down for the two of you.

               He took a bite of the steak on his plate, but his chewing slowed as he raised his head to look at you, and you took your bite. The taste made you sigh, fighting an inner cringe, before you leaned back in your chair, and pointed your knife at him.

“I told you not to criticize. You’re payin’ for pizza.”


	28. Gibbs x Reader + “You don’t have to go to all this trouble, you know.”

               With Christmas around the corner, most houses were decorated for the holiday in some way – lights on the porch, tree in the window, wreath on the door. But Gibbs’ house was dark, and undecorated.

               When he pulled into the driveway, he paused, frowning, looking up at the house and the light glowing through the window. Any other time, he’d draw his sidearm and go in through the backdoor, but before he really had a chance to do that, he saw you pass the window, and he laughed, soft, shaking his head as he pocketed his keys and headed inside.

               It wasn’t until he got to the door that he saw the wreath hanging over the door, and he shook his head again as he stamped the snow from his boots, and stepped inside. Honestly, he just expected you to be making dinner. This was not the first time you let yourself into his house to make dinner, which as much as he objected, he didn’t mind it. You surprising him was one of his favorite things.

               Instead?

               Strings of lights decorated the windows, and the tree was set up in the corner. He quirked a brow, looking around at all the decorations, and fought the laugh at the sight of the plate of cookies on the table.

“You don’t have to go to all this trouble, you know. The decorations would have gone up.” You poked your head out of the kitchen, grinning, and wiped your hands on the towel on your shoulder.

“Yeah, up in the attic. Don’t think I don’t know that. Come on, dinners almost ready.” Gibbs hung his jacket up, and headed to the kitchen behind you. “Besides, I didn’t have anything else to do tonight, and your house looked a little sad compared to…literally…the rest of the block.”

“I used the fireplace last night,” he pointed out, digging a beer from the fridge.

“Yeah, I know. Jethro, Christmas is literally in two day, there is no harm in putting some love into the holiday. Especially when the team is coming by tomorrow for Christmas Dinner, and yes I know about that,” you replied, smiling as he chuckled.

“Alright, alright.” He crossed over, peering over your shoulder at the stove, and sipped his beer as he patted your hip. “I’ll finish. You worked hard.” You hummed, turning and kissing his cheek.

“Are you sure? You worked, too.” He huffed, nodding, smiling. “Okay, okay…you do this better, anyways,” you chuckled, snagging his beer. Gibbs caught your arm as you started around him, turning his head to kiss your cheek with a smile.

“Thank you.”

“…merry Christmas, Jethro.”


	29. Gibbs x Reader + “Why are you so impossible to shop for?”

“Why are you so impossible to shop for?” you finally grumbled, tossing your phone down on the cushion beside you. Gibbs peered up from his book, brow quirked as he looked at you over the top of his glasses, before shrugging.

“Because there isn’t anything I want or need?” he commented, looking back down. You turned your head to glare at him, which was hard to do when you saw the smirk on his face. Finally, you scoffed, grabbing your phone and slouching back on the couch. “Are you pouting?”

“I am not. But since you don’t  _want_  or  _need_  anything, I’m getting you a gag gift, and if you don’t like it, I can tell you exactly where to stick it.” Gibbs looked up, a little faster this time, to see you smirking, now, and he chuckled, just a little, as he put his book and glasses down on the table in front of him.

“I don’t  _need_  or  _want_  anything that you seem to want to buy me,” he told you, shaking his head. “Really. Only thing I need for the holiday is…somethin’ I’ve already got.”

“That’s usually what ‘ _I don’t need or want anything_ ’ means, Jethro, thank you,” you commented. You were ready to made another remark, but you went still when you felt the couch shift, and his lips touch your cheek.

               Oh.

                _Oh._

               Blushing, you carefully put your phone to sleep, and set it on the arm of the couch, turning your head as he cupped your jaw, fingers curling into your hair.

“See, if you had led with this, the phone would have gone down sooner,” you hummed softly,  barely finishing your sentence as he stole the last word and sealed his lips against yours.


	30. Sloane + “Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?”

 

               Cases weren’t always easy. Sure, sometimes, they could be solved in less than a day. But usually, it was days – and long nights – of hard work. More often than not, Jack left near midnight to see most of Gibbs’ team still lingering, still working, surviving on caffeine and random pranks to keep them awake.

               Tonight, though, she was helping them, and it led to her and Gibbs downtown late that night, each wired with an earpiece to talk to each other, and the rest of the team, as they watched for their suspect, a Navy sailor, that no one had been able to find since the murder. It wasn’t terribly cold, thankfully, and it wasn’t snowing right now, so they didn’t need jackets, hats, gloves. Just a warm jacket, that was enough.

               No, tonight, the thing that had Jack glowering a bit as she strolled down the sidewalk, was the groups of carolers that she kept passing. The sound of Gibbs chuckling filtered into her ear, and she turned her head, shooting a glare across the street as Gibbs glanced in her direction.

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” she huffed, as he chuckled again.

“Because they aren’t hurting you.”

“Says the guy who hasn’t passed a  _single_  caroler on his side of the road,” she muttered, glancing around as she crossed the intersection, Gibbs doing the same on his side of the road.

“Says the agent who’d have to arrest you because I’d be witness,” Gibbs replied, snickering, and shaking his head. “Any sight of our sailor?”

“Nothing yet,” she replied, sighing, and glancing back over her shoulder to check behind her. The second she turned forward again, a group of carolers came around the corner, their voices carrying beautifully down the street. “Oh, these motherfuckers.”

“Sloane!” It wasn’t Gibbs – he was fighting too hard to not laugh – but she did pick out Nick and Bishop in the barrage of voices that shouted her name in her ear, each one followed by startled laughter.


	31. Bishop (Claytellie) + “Is that mistletoe?” + “I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you.”

**I suppose this is mild Claytellie (Clayton + Ellie)**. ^_^

 

              Pushing her hair off her face, Bishop lifted her head as the elevator dinged, and slipped out when the doors opened, smiling as the music pumped in from Abby’s lab across the hall.

“Oh, Abby!” she called, starting for the lab, before stopping short, and looking up at the doorway, curious. “Is that mistletoe?” Abby twirled around from her desk, and grinned, nodding.

“It is! I’m waiting to see who doesn’t notice it and goes thru with someone else,” Abby replied, snickering as Bishop huffed, chuckled, and ducked into the room.

“Isn’t that gonna get some sexual harassment charge?” she asked, curious, as Abby shook her head.

“Only if someone disapproves.”

“OI! Ellie?” Abby grinned over at Bishop as she turned and watched Reeves come in, waving his hand in the air.

“Reeves?”

“’ey, there you are. I’ve been looking for you, Nick said you’d be down here. Are you ready for lunch?” he asked, as she chuckled, and turned to point to Abby. The scientist shook her head.

“Results just started running, Major MasSpec was being difficult today. I will call you when he’s ready.” Bishop nodded, bouncing a little to turn towards her friend as he grinned from the doorway.

“Okay. Lunch!” She started towards him, smiling and thanking him as he moved his arm to guide her thru the door first, but the second she hit the doorframe, Abby cleared her throat, making both agents pause and turn. “…what?” Abby pointed, grinning, as Bishop and Reeves cocked their heads back to see the little sprig of mistletoe dangling overhead.

“…well, that is unexpected, but, it is tradition, isn’t it?” he asked, as Bishop shook her head, hand going up to point at him.

“Nope. I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you!” she said, turning her judgmental point at Abby, who was laughing as she spun away from them. Reeves squawked, bounding after her as she stormed to the elevator.

“C’mon, luv, give us a kiss, hm?” he teased, grinning.

               Last thing Abby heard before the elevator doors shut was Reeves shouting in surprise, immediately followed by his voice squawking “Hey! That hurt!”


	32. Torres x Reader + “Is that mistletoe?”

               You hummed a little, rolling your head to look at Nick as he shifted in the sleeping bag a few feet from yours. Despite his insistence that he wasn’t upset, the fact that he zipped himself into his own bag, alone, said otherwise. After a few seconds of silence, you shifted in your own bag, trying to get comfortable.

“I can hear you.”

“Look,” you huffed, shifting again. “When I asked you to come visit my parents, I didn’t know this was on the agenda. I swear.”

“I hate the desert. And camping,” he grumbled. You rolled your head, finally, in his direction, watching the shadow of his frame shifting on the other side of the tent.

“I know. And do you know what I had to do to convince my father not to rearrange us so you tented with him, and I tented with mom?” you asked, and even though you could hear Nick hum that he’d heard you, he didn’t answer, and you sighed. “Nicky…I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You are zipped up in your own sleeping bag three feet away from me, and until ten seconds ago, you had your back to me. Try again when you have something more believable.” Nick snorted, and you thrashed a little, shoving the bag away from you.

“What?” he asked, voice tense, a little panicked.

“I hate  _camping_. Dad told me that, since you were coming, we weren’t going to do Christmas Camp this year. I’d much rather have you wrapped around me in a bed. Hell, I’d much rather have you wrapped around me  _here_ , but you are over  _there_ , pouting,” you grumbled, kicking the sleeping back away from you, and flopping around until you were curled up away from him.

After a minute, you could hear rustling behind you, and, after a few more seconds, Nick’s chest pressed flush to your back, one arm wriggling until it slid under your head.

“What’re you doing?” you sighed, biting your lip as he kissed your shoulder.

“I’m not mad, but I hate camping,” he murmured into your hair. “Also, I haven’t been sleeping, but trying to sleep alone in a sleeping bag with you three feet away…”

“…you were pouting,” you snickered.

“Hush,” he huffed, making you laugh softly.

“Are  _you_  mad at me?” he asked, curious, as you shrugged, smiling into the dark. When you didn’t say anything, though, you felt Nick move, and the bag you’d brought rustle, before he pressed back against you. Curious, you shifted, rolling onto your back, and blinking up at him in the dark, frowning in confusion at the shadow of his hand above you.

“Nick?”

“Hm?”

“…is that mistletoe?” He chuckled, as you glanced towards him.

“It might be.”

“You sap,” you laughed, voice soft. But it didn’t stop you from finding his chest with your fingers in the dark, trailing them up until you could cup his face, and pull him down.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he murmured, as he followed your pull.

“Merry Christmas, Nick.”


	33. Gibbs x Reader + “You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

              Holidays…sucked.

               Not always, sometimes they were fantastic, and full of family, friends, happiness, decorations, joy, love.

               But.

               Palmer was with his wife, his daughter, visiting her family for the holiday.

               Abby was with her brothers.

               Ellie had gone to celebrate with Clayton.

               McGee had Delilah and the twins.

               Ducky was in New York with a friend.

               And Fornell was with his daughter.

               So…Gibbs was home by himself.

               It wasn’t the first time, it wasn’t going to be the last, and really, he didn’t mind. Just meant he could make his own steak, and sit with it and a beer and read his book without anyone bugging him. He was completely okay with that, he really was.

               When the knock sounded at the door, he frowned, peering back towards it over his glasses, frowning, but when it sounded again, he sighed, setting his glasses and book down, and stood, moving to answer it. He chuckled at the sight of you on the porch, dish in your hands, and shook his head, pulling the door open.

“Shouldn’t you be home?” You chuckled, slipping around him so he could shut the door, and grinned as he turned to see you.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” you asked, tsking at him, before holding out the dish. “To be…honest, my family cancelled their plans to come visit, believing that the weather was going to be too bad. I forget that they are in the South and a single flake of snow scares them,” you chuckled, as he took the dish. “So I had a bunch of food, and I thought that I would…share. With my favorite neighbor.” Gibbs laughed, as you finally shrugged off your jacket, before nodding, and turning towards the kitchen.

“Well…guess you need to come in and grab a beer, then, right?” he asked, as you laughed softly, and hung up your jacket.

“Are you sure?” you asked him, shaking the snow from your hair. After a second, Gibbs strolled back over, arm extended with a beer in his hand for you.

“About sharing a Christmas meal with  _my_  favorite neighbor? Course. Come on.” You smiled at him, taking the beer, and followed him to the dining table. “…merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Jethro.”


	34. DiNozzo x Reader + “I thought we weren’t doing gifts!”

               There was one thing Tony DiNozzo did not do lightly, and that was Christmas. You knew that, you’d known that for a very, very long time. Hell, when December hit, he had a huge tree in front of the biggest window in his apartment, always lit beautifully, always the first thing to draw your eyes when you walked in.

               But this year was not going easy for you, and Tony knew that. You had lost your job, and despite your best efforts, despite hitting the pavement every day for the last five months, you had yet to get a new one, and while you were able to cover your own bills, and not have to borrow from anyone, you couldn’t wiggle for the holidays. You couldn’t afford gifts. So you had told Tony that, and the two of you had agreed – no gifts.

               So when you shuffled out of the bedroom Christmas morning, heading for the kitchen for coffee, you frowned at the sight of a small wrapped box on the island by your coffee cup. Scratching your fingers through your hair, you glanced over your shoulder, confused.

“…Tony?”

“Yeah?” he called from the other room.

“…what is this, by my cup?” He jogged out of the other room, shirt on but unbuttoned, tie around his shoulders, as you turned to see him, even more confused.

“It’s your present.”

“Tony!” you scoffed, surprised. “I thought we weren’t doing gifts!” He hemmed and hawed, eyes falling as he started to button his shirt, and you sighed, shuffling over to knock his hands out of the way to help.

“You had a rough year, and yeah, we said no gifts but…I had already gotten you that…and I think you’ll like it. Think it might make you feel a little bit better.” You sighed, shaking your head as you finished buttoning his shirt, before you looked up, a little sad.

“I have…nothing for you, Tony…” He clicked his tongue, and shook his head, ducking in to kiss you lightly.

“I don’t need anything. Except to get your reaction to that gift.” Nervous, now, you turned to look at the box. It wasn’t a ring box, unless Tony threw a ring into a flat box, but you had no idea what it could be, instead, as you moved, and carefully removed the lid, furrowing your brow at the key inside.

“…Tony, this is a key.” Tony laughed a little, nodding.

“You’re here a lot anyways. Seems…wasteful…to keep both apartments, right?” he asked, smirk turning into a grin as you looked at him, hopeful.

“Really?”

“I’m a dick, but not that big of a dick,” he pointed out, as you laughed, and set the box down, moving to hug him tightly. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”


	35. Sloane + “You really can’t cook, can you?”

 

               It was apparent, the second Gibbs started eating, that her warning to him was not just a joke. She couldn’t help the chuckle as she shook her head, and shrugged, as he furrowed his brow, looking at her like she had personally offended him as he spit the food out into his napkin, and took the plate to the kitchen.

“You really can’t cook, can you?”

“I warned you!” she told him, shrugging, and sipping her drink. “I wanted to order in, but you  _insisted_  it was pointless if there was food in the house. Maybe next time we just…order in?” Gibbs chuckled, shaking his head, before she heard him rifling around in the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something to get that taste out of my mouth. While you order in.” Despite her squawk of objection, Sloan had to laugh, and grab her phone.

“It’s already on it’s way, should be here in ten.”

“…so you ruined perfectly good food to prove a point, didn’t you?” he asked, coming back into the room, cracker in his hand.

“You doubted me. Had to prove you wrong, didn’t I?” she asked, shrugging, and standing up just as the doorbell rang.


	36. Gibbs x Reader + “What’s the matter?” “Don’t touch me.”

 

“Y/N is pissed, everyone watch out.” Tony’s voice was low, his feeble attempt for you to not hear him, as he entered the pen ahead of you.  But you heard him, very clearly, as you rounded the corner a few seconds behind him, and, scowling, you balled up the paper in your hands, chucking it at the back of his head.

“Piss off, DiNozzo,” you growled, shaking your head.

“What’s going on?” McGee asked, confused, as you grabbed your bag off the floor, pausing to stuff your gun and badge into your desk.

“I’m going on, Tim,” you replied, shaking your head, not bothering to look at anyone else as you walked to the elevator. You didn’t realize Gibbs had followed until you turned around in the box, and he ducked in behind you. Sighing, you reached out, smashing your hand into the button. “Gibbs,” you started, shaking your head.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, frowning, and you ducked your head, fighting the urge to groan.

“Like you don’t know.” Quirking a brow, he reached out, hitting the Emergency Stop button, hand coming up to touch your arm. You yanked back, scowling now, and reached around him to turn the box back on. “ _Don’t touch me_.”

“Y/N?”

“You heard me,” you replied, shifting the bag against your shoulder. “I get it, you think you’re keeping me safe by making me stay here and do paperwork while you and McGee and DiNozzo go out and investigate, and interrogate, and arrest, but you know what the Director sees when you keep doing that? He sees someone who doesn’t belong on this team. Who doesn’t belong in this job. ” Gibbs looked confused, and you groaned, now, rubbing your hands over your face. “You benched me to keep me safe, because of one close call. One. But Vance is  _actually_  benching me, as in, I get to go home and twiddle my thumbs until he can look into things and be sure I’m a good fit for this job.” The box dinged, and you stepped around Gibbs, moving out as the doors opened. You paused, then, and sighed, turning to see him. “Did a great job keeping me safe, didn’t you,” you added, shaking your head, and leaving him behind in the elevator, startled, and silent.


	37. Gibbs x Reader + “I’m going to keep you safe.”

 

     Years of chasing bad guys, narrowly missing getting stabbed or shot, years of getting socks in the face, getting ribs broken, you thought you had a good handle on dealing with bad guys. But this was the first time you were nervous. This was the first time you were scared for yourself, and for your team.

     It had started normal, looking into the death of one Marine, and the kidnapping of another. But after finding a viable suspect, you and McGee had gone to bring him in, and, fuck, that was when things changed. He didn’t get violent, but he did have a look about him that made you uncomfortable. And when he got out, when you were volunteered to accompany him out to the door, he spent the elevator ride towering over you in the corner of the elevator, not laying a hand on you but being verbally threatening. You didn’t even fully realize what had happened until you were back in the elevator, and all you could do was hear his growl promising the horrific things he would do to you if he ever saw you again.

   And of course he was going to see you again, because you all knew he was responsible for the crimes, he just got lucky.

   Even without you saying anything, Gibbs knew something had happened, so he motioned for you to follow him, as he led to you the other elevators, waiting until the doors closed and the box shook before he hit the Emergency Stop button. You blinked a few times at the doors in front of you, before clearing your throat, and looking down at your feet.

“Speak.”

“Next time he sees me again, he’s going to do things to me that I can’t even begin to repeat, they were…horrific.” Your voice was low, and Gibbs cleared this throat, shaking his head.

“Worse than what he did to that Ma-”

“Yes.” He looked at you, then, face stoic.

“Are you scared?” he asked, not as an accusation, but as a clarification. When you nodded, he reached out, arm curling around your shoulders, as you leaned into his side. “I’m going to keep you safe. You know that.”

“…yeah. I know that. Still scared.”

“My house is yours.” It made you huff, soft, and nod, turning to hug him.

“Thank you, Jethro,” you told him softly.


	38. Gibbs x Reader + “Go back to bed.”

 

    The sandpaper scratched along the wood beneath his hands, as he smoothed out the section in front of him by the overhead light of his basement. It was dark out, it was late, but, like many nights, Gibbs couldn’t sleep. He took a break, every so often, stepped back to look at the whole of the boat - or, at least, the part that he’d put together so far - and sipped his scotch with a sigh, before returning to the work.

     He didn’t hear the footsteps, at first, but he didn’t miss the sound of the door as you shuffled through, tucking your hands into the pocket of the hoodie you’d stolen from him.

“Jethro?” Gibbs tilted his head to see you as you reached the bottom of the steps, “…can’t sleep?”

“Just wanted to do a little work on the boat,” he replied, eyes falling back to the sandpaper in his hand as he smoothed the wood in front of him, before he tossed the paper, and rubbed his neck. “Go back to bed.” You frowned, glancing at the boat, but instead of going up the steps, you padded across the cold concrete, curling your hands around his arm, and leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Bed’s cold without you. So until you’re ready, I’m gonna stay down here and watch you work.” Gibbs looked like he wanted to object, but when he turned to see you, you caught him in a soft kiss, something that made him relax a little, small smile on his lips as you pulled back.

“…if you insist.”


	39. Gibbs x Reader - "You can have my jacket."

“I hate stakeouts.”

      Gibbs glanced over at you, sipping his coffee, as you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. It was snowy outside, the temperature lower than it had been in weeks, and of course, this was the night you and Gibbs had to go on a stakeout. 

“Bad coffee?” he asked, making you huff, and look over.

“ _Cold_ coffee. Bad food. No heat - I know, I know, it’d bring attention to the car,” you muttered, shaking your head, and looking back out your window. “Normal stakeouts, I can handle. Snowy ones, I would rather sit in the middle of a DiNozzo-McGee argument than do this again, I’m  _freezing_.” Gibbs chuckled, putting his cup down in the holder. He was quiet, but you could hear him moving around. The sudden warmth across your lap made you groan, and curl into it, before glancing over as he tugged out a coat from the backseat. “Gibbs?”

“You can have my jacket…I had another one in the back. But that one is warmer.” You looked down at his jacket, lip between your teeth, and nodded, quickly moving to pull it over your shoulders and arms, groaning as you started to warm up. 

“Ugh, you great man,” you muttered, snuggling into the jacket. “Thank you, Gibbs.” He nodded, zipping the new jacket up to his chin.

“Anything to make you keep quiet on a stakeout.” You smirked, rolled your eyes, but said nothing, snuggling down into the seat as you returned your focus to the window.


End file.
